


Morsmordre

by mikeynovacaine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death Eaters, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9277124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeynovacaine/pseuds/mikeynovacaine
Summary: Draco wants rid of the Dark Mark.(ties in with my story Et In Medio and would take place between chapters 7 & 8, but you don't need to read it to understand)





	

**Author's Note:**

> tw: self harm

Draco stared at the pale faced, silver haired boy, who stared right back at him. He took in the grey eyes, sunken now from a year of being to terrified to fall asleep in his own home. His eyes moved across his bare chest, littered with harsh, ugly scars that stood out in the pale light emanating from the tip of his wand. He used to like the way he looked. He would look in the mirror and see a smug face, proud chest puffed out to show his importance, eyes gleaming with mischief. His attention was draw to the mark on his arm. It had faded since the Battle, just as his mother and father's had, but it was still _there_. What with everything that was happening with Harry lately, their secret meetings and even more secret kisses, he felt all the more guilty about his past. Draco shuddered and he could no longer prevent the sob from escaping his lips. He sank to the floor, leaning against the wall of an empty cubicle. What better place to do this than in Myrtle's bathroom. He ran his finger over the mark and closed his eyes, feeling a singular tear escape and roll down his cheek. He felt as pathetic as he must've looked, slumped over on the damp floor with his wand raised, pointed at his own arm. _Oh, if father could see me now..._ he thought bitterly, glaring down at his left arm. He wanted it gone, needed it gone, if he was ever to be able to move on and be _good_ for once in his miserable life. He took a deep breath, hands trembling as he pointed his wand at the mark.

"Lacero..." 

His body tensed with the sharp pain and he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. The cut was deep, diagonally across the outline of the skull on his forearm. Blood dribbled down his arm and dripped onto the floor. Draco's breath was ragged and it came out as more of a whimper now when he said once again, "L-lacero..." 

A second deep cut formed on his arm, creating a scarlet X over his tattoo. Still, Draco wasn't satisfied. He muttered the incantation again and again, cutting deeper and harder each time. When he finally gave in, he was a crumpled mess, tears steaming down his cheeks as he lay, arm limp. He let quite a bit of blood escape his body before he realised he needed to close the wounds. He almost didn't want to; he felt as though he was getting no less than what he deserved. He half-arsed the job, so that instead of scars they were still recently closed cuts, scarlet and raw. Unable to move from his spot, he sat there alone for what felt like hours, listening to the dripping from a broken, ancient tap.


End file.
